


Nothing for Christmas

by DistractedDream



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Thiefshipping, Thiefshipping Dirty Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-19 02:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13113609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedDream/pseuds/DistractedDream
Summary: Bakura doesn’t hate Christmas as much as everyone would assume. He especially doesn’t hate seeing Marik get so excited.(Part of the Thiefship Dirty Santa put together by Sitabethel)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always to my beta, SerenityXStar! Title from New Found Glory’s “Nothing for Christmas”.
> 
> Supersteffy's "The Perfect Gift" is a much better version of this story, so please go read that. You can find it in the same Collection as this one. The link is in the story info at the top of the page.

Bakura didn’t hate Christmas as much as everyone might have assumed. His host always celebrated, even when he lived alone, decorating his flat, baking cookies and making feasts, singing along with the carols as they played in the background. It was obnoxiously festive and the ring spirit found it endearing. Plus, Christmas meant presents. Presents were always good.  
  
Except that presents also meant shopping. While Bakura was content to spend Ryou’s money online, he normally retreated whenever Ryou went to the local mall. Today, however, Bakura was at the mall willingly. Though he started to regret it after the fifth time of hearing Mariah Carey sing that all she wants for Christmas is you. “Like she’d really be satisfied with nothing under the tree,” he grumbled.  
  
“What did you say?” Marik popped his head up from the Christmas tree he’d been examining. And there, there was the reason Bakura had agreed to this excursion. Marik’s face glowed with joy in the artificial lighting, his eyes sparkling brighter than any star atop the tree. He had wanted to go shopping, though he’d spent more time lost in the décor to wander into a store. Marik had been entranced by Ryou’s decorations and once he’d heard the mall would have even more lights, there was no changing his mind.  
  
Bakura shook his head, low ponytail swaying over his back. “I’m gonna go in here.” He gestured with his thumb to the sunglasses store behind him. Marik nodded, attention already back on the tree before him. The store clerk didn’t look up from the pile of shades he was pricing at the counter. Bakura wasn’t interested in the sunglasses, but the store was quiet, free of the crowds of busy shoppers, excited kids, and frazzled parents. And Mariah Carey wasn’t singing.  
  
His fingers idly flipped some of the tags around. Marik’s birthday was in a few days, but they weren’t celebrating for the obvious reasons. Christmas, however, was fair game. Neither of them were religious, not after everything they’d gone through, but Marik wanted to celebrate. Bakura thought maybe, just maybe, he should get something for Marik. Only so Marik would get the full Christmas experience of unwrapping a present from under the tree. That was the only reason.  
  
“That one doesn't have nearly enough lights.” Marik kept looking over his shoulder at the tree as he walked into the store, bumping into Bakura. It didn't faze Marik at all, pressed against Bakura’s side. It was Bakura who moved first. “Did you see it? They definitely slacked off on that one. Someone should tell them.  
  
“Marik, I doubt they care.” Bakura pulled a pair of aviator shades off the wall and slipped them onto Marik. “Just like they didn't care about the bear that wasn't fluffy enough or the unrealistic snowman.” He caught Marik's chin, turning his face this way and that, and nodded. The aviators suited Marik’s face, emphasizing his jawline, and they’d look good while he was riding. “Take those off and try these on,” he said as he held out a similar pair with a purple reflective surface.  
  
Marik was still too focused on the decorations to argue with Bakura about being ordered around. At least, too focused to argue about sunglasses. “They put that snowman next to a palm tree! Like on a beach! That's a death sentence for snowpeople.” He turned to the mirror affixed to the wall, scrunching up his nose. “I don't know, Bakura. Do they make me look cool enough?”  
  
“Cooler than a doomed snowman that isn't even made of snow,” Bakura assured him. The shades did look good on Marik, though Bakura thought it was a shame for anything to hide Marik's eyes. He'd never say that aloud though, especially not in public. Marik handed Bakura the sunglasses back and picked out a pair of cat-eye clear plastic frames.  
  
For one horrifying moment, Bakura thought Marik would try to put the glasses on him. “Why are we in here?” Marik looked ridiculous in the glasses, making Bakura smirk as he preened in front of the mirror. “Did you need sunglasses? Are your eyes vampire eyes too? I mean, I hate to tell you, but these definitely aren't your style.”  
  
Bakura rolled his eyes, taking the awful shades off Marik and putting them back. “For the last time, I am not a vampire.” He grabbed Marik's hand, pulling him out of the store. “Maybe I was trying to figure out what you wanted for Christmas.” Bakura stopped short so they didn't run into a stroller, biting the inside of his cheek as Marik bumped into his back. “You're impossible to buy for,” Bakura huffed.  
  
“And you're just impossible.” Marik chuckled as Bakura scowled at him. Marik grabbed Bakura’s hand so they wouldn’t get separated. “What would I even buy the guy who steals whatever he wants?”  
  
“Something I can't steal,” Bakura mumbled as Marik took off, weaving through the crowd, tugging Bakura along.  
  
The scent of leather soon hit Bakura’s nose and he inhaled deeply, missing Marik’s knowing smirk. They passed the fancier coats, though Bakura did give a longing look to a black leather trench coat. Toward the back of the shop, Marik found the motorcycle jackets, pulling jacket after jacket off the rack until his arms were overflowing with leather. Marik deposited the jackets into a dressing room and pushed Bakura in with him. “Not that we have the same style, but I’ll know when you think something looks good on me.”  
  
Bakura eyed the pile, noticing red leather peeking out from the stack of black. “Oh? How are you going to know that?” He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall next to the mirror.  
  
His partner didn’t answer, shrugging into his first jacket. Each one was discarded again, deemed not sexy enough, until Marik reached the red one. “Here, try this.”  
  
“Marik, it’s not really-” Marik shook the jacket at Bakura’s excuses and with a sigh, Bakura slipped the jacket on. He waited as Marik circled him, appraising the fit.  
  
“Is it too tight in the arms? The shoulders?” Bakura shook his head and turned to the mirror.  
  
“I look like a Michael Jackson cosplayer.” Marik snorted behind him as he tried on another jacket. Bakura removed the red jacket and added it to Marik’s no pile. “You know, Christmas is about shopping for others. Not yourself.”  
  
“I thought it was about the magical baby that everyone is supposed to worship. What was his name?” Marik tossed his hair back, none of the jackets worthy enough of taking home. “Kris Kringle?”  
  
Bakura choked on a laugh. “Yes. Exactly. Baby Kris Kringle.” Ryou would kill him for the joke, but it was too good to let pass. Marik grinned and lead them back into the mall. They ducked into a shop with pop culture paraphernalia, dissolved into laughter in the weed store (or that’s what Marik called it between giggles while Bakura cracked an actual smile at his partner’s antics, not pointing out that the gummy bears Marik was buying Rishid were probably pot candy), and played with the cats at the pet store. Despite Marik’s begging, Bakura refused to let him buy a cat, explaining that Ryou would stick the Ring in the freezer for a month if Bakura brought home an animal. Again.  
  
Marik ducked into a jewelry store, talking about getting something for Isis. Bakura toyed with a length of gold chain, letting Marik try to haggle for a better price on a pair of earrings. He’d almost tuned it out, calculating how much gold he could walk out with without being caught. Only his thieving nerves kept him from jumping when Marik whispered in his ear. “See something you want?”  
  
Bakura’s gaze shifted from the gold to Marik’s eyes. “Yes.”  
  
He wasn’t surprised at all when Marik laughed. “Gold really isn’t your thing, Fluffy. C’mon, I’m hungry.” Bags swaying in his hand, Marik headed back into the mall. “Let’s find something to eat.”


	2. Chapter 2

After lunch, to Bakura’s chagrin, Marik did want to sit on Santa’s lap. The line stretched on and on but finally it was Marik’s turn. He sat on the arm of the chair, grinning brightly. He waved his hand when the mall Santa asked Marik what he wanted. “I already have everything I want.” Before the Santa could reply, Marik called out to Bakura, gesturing for him to join them. “I want a picture with both of us! Come on, Bakura!”

Bakura opened his mouth to argue but the annoyed noises of the parents in line behind them and the restless cries of their kids hushed him. With a put-upon sigh, he sidled over and perched on the arm of Santa’s throne, opposite Marik. “You owe me.” He didn’t smile but he didn’t scowl either, keeping his face neutral so he didn’t ruin Marik’s picture. If asked, he would have said it was simply so Marik wouldn’t bitch at him. Though in his heart, he knew it was so Marik would have yet another better memory to replace a childhood of bad ones.

“I’m sure,” Marik purred, winking at Bakura as he went to retrieve their photo from the assistant elf.

Bakura felt his face heat up, flustered as always when Marik flirted with him. Santa nudged Bakura’s arm, holding out two candy canes for them. “Do you want something for Christmas?” It took everything he had not to look at Marik. Instead, Bakura scoffed and took the candy canes, straightening his coat as he stood and followed Marik out of the display.

“Where now?” he asked, handing one of the candy canes to Marik.

Marik tucked the photo into his back pocket and accepted the treat, slipping his free hand into Bakura’s. “Coffee first.” Bakura rolled his eyes. Marik’s coffee was more like Ryou’s – mostly sugar, flavored, and topped with whipped cream – and Bakura grimaced as Marik used his candy cane to stir the drink. Yet he didn’t complain aloud, sipping on his own black coffee as they meandered through the mall. At least the coffee, if flavored, caffeinated sugar water could be called coffee, kept Marik from commenting further on the quality of the holiday displays. “What did you celebrate this time of year? I guess it’d be flood season about now, right?”

They rarely spoke of Bakura’s life before the ring and he was completely unprepared for Marik to bring it up now. He frowned at his coffee as Marik slowed to walk next to him. “I didn’t.” Bakura shrugged, drinking the last of his coffee and tossing the cup. “I was on my own since I was a kid and I hated the priests and everything they stood for. I thought festivals were only good for separating drunken fools from their gold. Never paid much attention to which festival it was; only how much gold I could go home with.”

Marik nodded, without pressing for more. “We didn’t celebrate. Anything. We had ceremonies and rituals, but no celebrations.” He rubbed at his own shoulder, pressing at the edges of the wingtips hidden under his jacket and clothes. “Not even birthdays.” Marik was getting a faraway look in his eyes so Bakura carefully took Marik’s hand away from his shoulder. He told himself it was only because he feared Marik’s yami would break free and eviscerate everyone in the mall. It wasn’t though. The small comforting gesture worked and Marik smiled softly as he focused on their hands and threaded their fingers together. “But now I can celebrate whatever I want. Like Christmas. Or Halloween. Or, or… Or Arbor Day!” He tugged on Bakura’s hand. “Hey, let’s go see a movie. Wandering a mall aimlessly is just so pedestrian.” Bakura snorted, spinning on his heel, leading them down to the theater, their memories better left in the past. “Do you think they decorate arbors for Arbor Day, Bakura? Have an Arbor Day feast?”

“I’m sure they do, Marik. Sure they do.”

* * *

Bakura sat curled under the comforter he’d stolen from his host’s bed, trying to stop shivering. Damn Marik and damn Lady Death. The ride home on the back of Marik’s bike had almost frozen him to death. Maybe Lady Death was an appropriate name after all. He tugged the comforter closer, too cold to even reach from under it to turn the TV on.

“And you say I’m overly dramatic. Here.” Bakura’s eyes lifted from the mug Marik held in front of him to Marik’s face. The blonde held a similar mug, little tendrils of heat curling into the air. It reminded Bakura of the shadows. “Take it,” he commanded.

“What is it?” Bakura asked as he peered into the mug.

“Poison.” Marik rolled his eyes. “Just take it and scooch over.” With a huff, Bakura distangled himself from the comforter to take the cup, the heat immediately sinking into his cold fingers. He shifted slightly, only enough for Marik to sit next to him. “Damnit, Fluffy, were you that cold?” Bakura glared, clinging to the warm mug. Marik stole a corner of the comforter, tucking his feet under it and grabbing the remote.

Bakura didn’t pay attention, sipping on the drink. “Mm, okay. This is good. What is it?”

“Kakoow.” He took a taste of his while selecting a movie. The opening of “White Christmas” filled the room while Marik set the remote down and sank back into the sofa cushions with his drink.

“Kakoow? You mean cocoa?” Bakura licked the chocolate from his lips.

“What’s the difference?” Bakura simply rolled his eyes, both of them falling silent as Bing Crosby sang. If Marik huddled closer as the shelling started, neither commented on it. “I would have made you sahlab,” Marik murmured later. “Like Rishid used to make for us. But Ryou said you can’t get sahlab powder in the stores here. Maybe I can have Rishid send me some.”

It was cozy, cocooned in the warm comforter, drinking the hot cocoa or kakoow or whatever it was, with Marik’s weight tucked up against his side, and any sarcastic comment Bakura might have made didn’t seem worth it. He dropped his head down onto Marik’s once he finished his drink. Marik kept up a running commentary on the movie, only quieting during the dance numbers. Sometime during “Choreography”, Bakura dozed off through the rest of the movie.

Marik woke him up later, hips swaying as he sung “Love, You Didn't Do Right By Me”, trying to tug Bakura free of the comforter. When they went to bed, Bakura found he wasn’t cold anymore as he did, in fact, do right by Marik after all.

* * *

Bakura lay awake in bed afterwards. The bed that was Ryou’s but that Bakura had started to consider theirs. He stared at the ceiling. When had life become following along with Marik’s schemes, clinging to him on the back of his motorcycle, of doing things or not doing them, simply to see Marik smile at him? How often did he hold back some retort because it was colder than he actually felt toward Marik? Somehow, Marik had found one of the places in his soul where he felt cracked, where there was only darkness, and filled it with himself.

_“Is that an innuendo?”_ Bakura growled at his host and tried to ignore his pestering. _“Why does it bother you so much to admit what everyone already knows? You adore him. Stop denying it. Stop lying to yourself.”_ He hated Ryou’s Jiminy Cricket attitude and hated even more that he could make that analogy because of Ryou.

_“I’m not-”_ Next to him, Marik shifted, rolling from his stomach to his side, curling towards Bakura in his sleep. Bakura quieted, mindful for any signs of nightmares, of Marik’s sleep being disturbed from fragments of memories haunting him. Or worse, from his yami taking over. Bakura’s fingers brushed Marik’s hair out of his face. Marik sighed in his sleep and nestled into Bakura’s shoulder.

_“Spirit…”_

Bakura rubbed a hand over his face. “I know,” he answered aloud. “I know.” He turned his head, watching Marik sleep. He was beautiful. Without his makeup and gold and stupid ensembles, Marik was still more beautiful than any treasure Bakura could recall. _“But what if I admit it and lose him?”_

_“And what if you don’t?”_

He leaned over Marik, kissing his forehead. _“That almost scares me more.”_


	3. Chapter 3

“When did your host have time to do all this?” Marik sat on the living room floor on Christmas morning, contents of an emptied stocking scattered around him. In his excitement, he’d pulled on the purple cashmere sweater Ryou had left wrapped under the tree for him. It matched his eyes and Marik kept stroking the lush material.

Bakura curled up on the sofa, face hidden behind an over-large coffee mug. An oversized black jumper with a ghost on the front slipped off his shoulder. He’d chuckled when he unwrapped it. Of course Ryou would give him something they’d both like. Of course he would. His own stocking had been filled with mostly coal, but Marik pointed out that coal was simply future diamonds and Bakura didn’t mind the joke so much then. Bakura sipped his coffee and tapped the dark circle under one of his eyes. “I doubt he slept last night.”

Marik hummed, holding a gift bow up to the light. He’d rushed them out to the living room at dawn, chirping about Santa. Only the promise of coffee had gotten Bakura to trail along behind him. The joy of the morning shone in Marik’s eyes and Bakura couldn’t help but smile at him. Even half dressed in the jumper and his boxers, hair still mussed from bed, and without his usual kohl, he was gorgeous. Bakura set down his coffee and reached under the throw pillows on the sofa. “Uh, Marik?” He held a small gift in his hands, offering it to his partner. “Here.”

_ “Smooth. Real smooth.” _

_ “Shut it, host.” _

Marik blinked up at him, crawling closer. “For me?” He took the box carefully, unwrapping it with more care than the frenzy with which he’d attacked the stocking and Ryou’s gift. Inside, the purple aviators from the store sat safely tucked into tissue paper. “I remember these! From the mall. When did you buy them?!” He slipped them on, grinning up at Bakura. “Did you go shopping without me?”

“Buy is such a strong word.” Bakura smirked into his coffee as Marik got up from the floor, walking to the hall. Bakura figured he was going to the mirror to see how the glasses looked and called out to him. “They look good on you.”

“Everything looks good on me, Fluffy.” Bakura bristled at the pet name but he was too tired to respond. Damn host. He closed his eyes, savoring the flavor and warmth of his coffee. He didn’t open his eyes until he felt Marik stop in front of him. “Yes?”

Marik’s grin was far too mischievous for Bakura’s liking, holding something behind his back. “Stand up. And take off your sweater.”

The ring spirit grumbled but put down his coffee again and pushed himself to his feet. “If you wanted me naked…” he teased as he tugged the jumper over his head. Goosebumps broke out over his skin, standing bare chested before Marik. “It’s cold.”

He caught a flash of something dark as Marik encircled him in his arms. “I can tell. Hands back.” Bakura stayed silent, eyes widening as he felt something slip over his hands and up his arms to his shoulders. The scent of leather enveloped him and Bakura almost melted into it. Marik tugged the front of the new jacket straight, the silky lining caressing Bakura’s bare skin. Marik smiled. “There.”

Bakura stretched out his arms and stared down at them, studs glinting in the light where they had been affixed to the black leather. Pins and patches decorated the front, spikes at his shoulders making them look wider. Marik thumbed at one of the patches. “You’ve needed a jacket for when we go riding. That trench coat of yours won’t hold up if we ever crashed.” He tossed his golden hair over his shoulder. “Not that we would. And this will keep you warmer. There’s a Union Jack on the back. That was Ryou’s idea.”

Bakura shrugged out of the jacket, holding it up so he could see it. He’d never had something that was specifically his and not Ryou’s. But this was his. He turned it over, looking at every pin and patch as he sank down onto the sofa. “This is… these are all from places we’ve been.”

Marik folded himself next to Bakura, the shades Bakura had given him perched on his head. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to get you something that had random bands or stuff that didn’t mean anything to us on it.”

“Us?” Bakura cut his eyes to Marik.

“Us,” Marik repeated, leaning closer, and Bakura licked his lips, ready for the kiss he was certain was coming. Instead, Marik reached around him and grabbed the remote. “Let’s watch Christmas specials!” The TV blared to life and Marik started flicking through Ryou’s Netflix account. “What do you want to watch?”

“The Grinch.” Bakura laid the jacket over the arm of the sofa and picked up his coffee. He didn’t bother to put his sweater back on, enjoying the way Marik’s eyes kept flicking to his body. “That’s obviously the best one. He steals Christmas. A heist worthy of the King of Thieves.” Marik snorted but selected the show. “It’s completely unrealistic though.”

“Why’s that?” Marik hopped up to grab a candy cane from the tree, opening it as he sat back down. “Because he tries to steal an entire holiday?” He pressed into Bakura’s side until the other moved his arm, wrapping it around Marik’s shoulders.

Bakura tipped his mug to the TV. “No. He pulls it off. He steals Christmas and he would have gotten away with it! But, through the magical power of song, the Whos are still happy and basically guilt trip him after the most successful heist of his life. Who could still be happy after their Christmas is stolen? And who would give the stuff back?!” He took a sip of coffee. “Neither of those things would really happen, so it’s unrealistic.”

Marik sucked thoughtfully on his candy cane for a moment as the Whos started their holiday decorating on the TV. “Because Christmas isn’t about the stuff. You can’t steal Christmas because even with nothing, it’s still Christmas. All this-” He pointed around the room with his candy cane. “It would still be Christmas if it wasn’t here. It would still be Christmas even if we didn’t celebrate. And all this stuff? We don’t need it.”

Bakura arched an eyebrow at Marik. “Are you saying you would have been just as happy if you’d woken up with no presents? No tree? No lights?”

“Yes.” Marik tipped his head back to meet Bakura’s eyes. “Because I still would have woken up with you.”

Color rushed to Bakura’s cheeks, hiding it behind his coffee mug. “Watch the damn cartoon.”


	4. Chapter 4

They went out after dinner, no destination, Marik’s arm tucked through Bakura’s as they walked along. He couldn’t lean his head against Bakura’s new jacket, not with the spikes covering the shoulders, but it was still nice. It was especially nice with how good Bakura looked in his new jacket. Marik hadn’t even had to ask; Bakura slipped it on with a grin when Marik suggested taking a walk. He knew they looked good together, though Bakura had made a crack that they looked like their own biker gang.

They looked at the lights, some put up for the holiday, some just the usual neon store lights and street lights, shining through the night. It was enough to chase away the darkness, though they both carried flashlights to be safe. With their reputations, no one would have bothered them, but Marik knew Bakura carried at least one knife on him with the flashlight.

A light snow started to fall and Marik came to a stop, his face tipped up to the sky, eyes closed. The flakes brushed over his skin, larger ones sticking in his hair. The few people on the sidewalk stepped around him, a hush falling over the city with the snow.

“Is this how you pictured life?”

The query was so soft, Bakura almost missed it. He turned with a fond smile that Marik couldn’t see, fingers swiping snowflakes away from Marik’s cheeks. “No.” He lifted his head, mirroring Marik’s stance. A peaceful moment with a beautiful, smart, devious man in the middle of a city on a holiday that didn’t exist when he was alive in a body that was borrowed at best with snow falling on them? Not even in a fever induced hallucination could have have ever pictured this. He didn’t tell Marik that though. He didn’t need to. “This isn’t the past. This isn’t the shadows. This isn’t my vengeance. I never would have imagined this.” He peeked at Marik from under his lashes. “You?”

“I didn’t see snow until last winter. I knew what it was, from the Ghouls. But I’d never seen it myself.” He chuckled. “I must seem awful naive sometimes.”

“Only to people stupid enough to underestimate you.” Bakura smirked, taking Marik’s hand and leading them over to the park. In the quiet corners, they stole kisses, grinning as the snow tickled their noses. Bakura bought them a bottle of sake to share before turning for home.

Bakura had just poured the drinks for them when Marik swept him into his arms. “What? What are you doing?” He tried to push free, but Marik held him firm.

They shuffled awkwardly around the kitchen as Marik hummed. “Dancing, duh.”

His partner rolled his eyes, using his thieving skills in order to pull Marik’s phone free from his pocket, flipping through the apps until he queued up the music player. A newer holiday song, with a big band feel, came on. He dropped the phone back into Marik’s pocket. Their steps smoothed out with the rhythm of the song, the music moving with them, circling around the kitchen. Marik laughed gleefully when Bakura spun him, dipping Bakura later so low that his hair brushed the floor. Bakura slung his arms over Marik’s shoulders, pulling them together for a slow kiss. His fingers tangled in Marik’s hair, clinging as they stood up straight.

Marik rubbed his nose along Bakura’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Bakura.”

“Merry Christmas, Marik.”

They never did get to drink the sake before dancing down the hallway to the bedroom.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe they missed all the mistletoe!” Ryou pouted in his soul room. “I hung it everywhere.”

A dark chuckle materialized behind him. “They’re kissing anyways, so what does it matter?”

Ryou turned to the apparition with a bright smile. They hadn’t told their other selves yet, but when Bakura and Marik were being intimate, Marik’s yami could slip into Ryou’s soul room. As near as they could figure, it was a very pleasant side effect of Marik having used the rod to infiltrate Ryou’s mind. At first, they’d been wary of each other, thrown together so unexpectedly. Only once had Mariku gotten angry and they both had found Ryou was indeed capable of casting him out of his soul room. Since then, they’d grown close, in no small part thanks to the relationship of their other selves, though they hadn’t dared go quite so far.

Ryou hopped into Mariku’s arms, knowing he would catch him, hugging him tightly. Hugs were Mariku’s favorite and he squeezed the hikari to his chest, simply carrying him in his arms instead of letting him go. Ryou kissed his cheek. “I suppose it doesn’t. Still. All that work and they didn’t even appreciate it.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Mariku arched a brow at Ryou. “This is possibly the happiest my other self has been around his birthday since I was made.” The yami nibbled at Ryou’s ear, making him giggle and squirm. “You did good.”

“Do you really think so?” Mariku nodded, a sofa appearing from the shadows with a thought. He plopped down onto it with Ryou in his lap. Ryou grinned. “Should I tell you what I want for Christmas, Santa?”

A sharp grin formed at the question. “Unless what you want is me, I’m afraid I’m not interested.” Ryou rolled his eyes. Mariku licked his lips slowly, a habit Ryou was starting to realize meant he was thinking. “They didn’t get you anything. They should have. Shouldn’t they?” He stroked Ryou’s hair distractedly. “Was there something you wanted for Christmas? Maybe something I could make out of the shadows?”

Ryou’s hair swished around his face as he shook his head. “No.” His arms tightened around Mariku’s neck. “Not anymore.” He stole a chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas, Mariku.”

Mariku’s eyes widened, feigning shock. “But there wasn’t any mistletoe!” Ryou smirked, pointing up. Sprigs of mistletoe spread above their heads, warm white twinkling lights peeking through the greenery. “Sneaky,” the yami teased. Mariku’s fingers gripped the back of Ryou’s neck, the other’s mouth falling open as his head was tipped back. The kiss was rougher, deeper than the one Ryou had given him, and their lips were swollen by the time Mariku pulled away, breathless, their faces flushed. “Merry Christmas, Ryou.”

* * *

Bakura stirred from dreams of memories that haunted him, reaching for Marik in the morning light. The bed beside him was empty, the scent of coffee and breakfast filling his nose as he awoke. Something rolled along his wrist and Bakura lifted it. A gold chain caught the morning sun, shining and perfectly polished. He shifted to his back, a tiny smile teasing his lips at the feel of gold weighing down his limbs and his throat.

He didn’t need it. He didn’t need the gold. He didn’t need the jacket. He didn’t need anything. Bakura had everything he could have ever wanted throughout his extended life. It was in the kitchen, fixing them breakfast apparently.

Bakura smiled, truly smiled, looking down at his right bicep and the gold armband Marik had slipped there. He didn’t need anything for Christmas. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to go read Supersteffy's story!


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